


curiosity kissed the cat

by screechfox



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Beholding, Cuddling, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Fluff, Kissing (For Science), M/M, Minor Internalized Acephobia, No Sex, Timeline What Timeline, Touch-Starved Jonathan Sims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 21:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screechfox/pseuds/screechfox
Summary: “What do you want from me?”Jon watches as Elias shivers through another wave of tingling. His lips press together until they go bloodless, and then his tongue finally darts out as he speaks, hoarse and breathless.“I’d like to kiss you,” Elias says, pupils blown wide and hungry in an infinite ink-black void.Driven by curiosity, Jon experiments with kissing Elias.





	curiosity kissed the cat

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't think jon/elias could be so fluffy before this day. i don't actually know why this warranted a 'do not archive' tag. i guess i'm just real embarrassed about how sappy most of this is in comparison to canon
> 
> edited 19/07/2019 to correct a few spelling mistakes and paragraph breaks

It feels like Jon has been asking questions for hours, to no avail.

It’s some odd teaching plan Elias has devised, aiming to give him control over the compulsion. He peppers Elias with questions — some from a designated list, some from his own brain — and tries to learn how to switch it on and off.

(Normally, he wouldn’t want to spend any more time in Elias’ presence than he has to, but he has a vested interest in not getting himself killed by monsters angry about their privacy, so needs must.)

Elias has remained perfectly composed throughout, even-toned and never giving away more than he wants to. There’s been the occasional compelled truth, but always with the understanding that Elias is _letting_ it happen. The faint flush to Elias’ cheeks is the only sign that Jon’s efforts are having any effect at all.

Jon is tired of doing this, desperate to go back to his flat and sleep, and perhaps that’s what gives his voice real power as he spits out the next question on the list.

“What do you want from me?”

Jon watches as Elias shivers through another wave of tingling. His lips press together until they go bloodless, and then his tongue finally darts out as he speaks, hoarse and breathless.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Elias says, pupils blown wide and hungry in an infinite ink-black void.

“... Oh.” What is Jon meant to say to _that?_

“Don’t think on it.” Elias is attempting to be firm, but his voice is robbed of its usual sharpness. Instead, there’s something soft to his tone, one part exhaustion and one part satisfaction. It’s as gratifying as it is terrifying, and Jon doesn’t know what to do with either emotion.

“I— How do you expect me to _not think on it?”_

Elias exhales, straightening his back and smoothing down the already-perfect lines of his suit. He schools his expression back into perfect neutrality. It’s _infuriating_ to watch him compose himself so easily.

“You wouldn’t want me to kiss you, so I won’t,” Elias says, with just a hint of indignance sharpening the sounds of the words. It’s as though he’s offended by the very implication that he’d go against Jon’s wishes. Jon finds himself laughing, incredulous beyond any possible measures.

“Really? After everything you’ve put me through, _that’s_ where you draw the line?”

“There are some boundaries I have no reason to step over.” Elias waves a dismissive hand, watching Jon with an unblinking gaze.

“That’s never stopped you before, has it?”

“Are you trying to goad me into kissing you, Jon?”

“I…” The words dry up on Jon’s tongue, because he honestly doesn’t know. “You tell me.”

“Hm.” Elias tilts his head, piercing Jon with those cool grey eyes. In the light of the setting sun through the window, they’re tinted faintly lilac.

“You’re curious what it would be like — you have little experience with this sort of contact, and far less with men.” Elias raises his brows, and Jon flushes at the blurry memory of Tim making out with him at a Christmas party. “Besides which, you think it could break down some of my barriers, perhaps even give you a weakness to use to pry more answers out of me.”

Jon flushes even more, tensing up. That had been lurking in the back of his mind, but to hear it said out loud brings embarrassment and shame rising to the forefront. Elias clicks his tongue, chiding.

“I’m hardly going to scold you for attempting a little manipulation, Jon.”

“It, uh— It would be somewhat hypocritical.” Jon forces his shoulders to ease, taking a shaky breath that could almost be called a laugh.

“Quite,” Elias says, all teeth.

Jon falls silent, trying to consider how to handle this humiliation. His eyes keep catching on Elias’ pale lips, and he has to wonder what they’d feel like against his own. A fanciful part of his brain imagines them being unyielding and unforgiving, a marble statue against Jon’s comparative humanity. But he knows that isn’t how things work; Elias is a monster playing at being human, but so is Jon, and Elias is probably better at acting his part.

“In this one particular case, I doubt I’d be different to anyone else,” Elias says, almost pitying. “But if you really want to, I won’t be _complaining_ if you kiss me just to see.”

Elias is right, of course: it’s curiosity that motivates Jon, not any kind of physical desire.

Jon takes one step, and then another, until he stands directly in front of Elias. Elias offers no comment, no judgement, watching Jon with an air of utter dispassion. _If this is what you want,_ his eyes seem to say, _then you’ll have to make the first move._ It’s almost enough to make Jon reconsider, but his curiosity is overwhelming him.

Jon reaches out and tugs on Elias’ lapels. It’s not an especially elegant way of doing things; Elias lets himself be pulled upwards anyway. There’s a self-satisfaction to the way Elias blinks slowly, looking at Jon through the silver curves of his lashes.

Before Jon can second-guess himself, he pulls Elias close and kisses him.

Elias is, of course, warm and soft and so _terribly_ human. His lips part with a soft exhale, an invitation for _more_ that Jon isn’t planning on taking him up on. It’s just… skin on skin. Not unpleasant, given the relative lack of physical contact in Jon’s day to day life, but nothing special. It doesn’t even hold the comfortable intimacy of his fumbling attempts at kissing Georgie — which is definitely not something he should be thinking about while Elias is in such close proximity.

(Jon has to remind himself what he’s dealing with. Elias is a manipulative murderer who wants to stoke the flames of Jon’s curiosity until they’re two sides of the same coin. The fact that Jon is kissing him doesn’t _erase_ that. It _shouldn’t_ erase that.)

Jon isn’t opposed to the kiss, in general principle. The closeness makes something ease in his chest, a tension he hadn’t even realised was there. But pressing his mouth against Elias’ seems like an unnecessary complication; there are a thousand less intimate ways that Jon could achieve the same relaxation, and with people better than Elias. At least, in theory.

“I thought not,” Elias murmurs, breaking away from the kiss. He doesn’t sound disappointed or displeased, just… satisfied, like a scientist receiving the results of an interesting experiment.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, because this is the kind of thing you apologise for. Even if it’s to _Elias._

“No need to reprimand yourself, Jon,” Elias says, tone going firm. “I didn’t expect you to react any differently than you did. You indulged your curiosity, and that’s all I wanted.”

Oh, _of course._ This is about the Eye after all. When is it not?

Despite that, Jon doesn’t pull away from Elias. He clings to Elias’ jacket with a force that surprises himself. If he lets go, he thinks, he’ll be lost and drifting until the next time someone touches him — and not even the Beholding knows when that will be.

Elias tilts his head, the faintest frown of displeasure crossing his face. He begins to move backwards into his chair, and without realising, Jon follows the movement. He can’t seem to prise his fingers from the fabric of Elias’ suit. His cheeks flush with painful mortification as Elias watches him expectantly.

“I—” Jon can’t bring himself to say the words. He can’t admit that he wants this closeness, because then not only will Elias win, he’ll be insufferably smug about it.

Besides, there’s no reason for him to say anything when Elias’ gaze prickles across his brain, a tidal wave of _knowing._

“Ah. Of course. Anything for you, Jon.” Elias’ voice is rich with amusement, but there’s a layer of warm, sincere devotion underneath that makes Jon’s stomach drop and his heart lift.

Elias settles into his seat, then brings one arm around Jon’s back, pulling Jon ungracefully into his lap. Jon startles, making an embarrassing sound of surprise. He focuses on the solid reassurance of Elias’ arm, and wills himself to relax. With a put-upon sigh to convey how much he _should_ be annoyed, Jon arranges his legs so he won’t get hideously uncomfortable. As an after-thought, he kicks his shoes to the plush carpet of Elias’ office — in for a penny, in for a pound.

They’re quiet, for a while. It’s surprising, but not unpleasant. Elias seems lost in thought, a far away look in his eyes. Jon focuses on the warm reality of Elias’ body, and the measured rise and fall of Elias’ chest.

(Elias’ breathing is possibly _too_ even. Jon wonders what it’s like to be Elias, wearing humanity like a second skin but never truly feeling it.)

“I’m sorry,” Jon says again, swallowing through the lump in his throat. There’s a guilty pit opening in his stomach; even Elias doesn’t deserve to put up with Jon on one of the rare occasions his composure fails him. Jon leans his head against Elias’ shoulder, listening for the slow blink of his heartbeat.

Elias doesn’t answer Jon’s apology, not with words. He reaches up and starts stroking his fingers through Jon’s hair in just the right way — the same way Georgie used to when they were dating. It should bother Jon that his intimate memories are being hijacked so Elias can calm him down. Jon’s thoughts are being layered over by a soft snowfall of static.

“I thought it might—” Jon cuts himself off with a shaky breath, unwilling to continue.

Elias sighs. The cast of his face is almost weary, emphasising the way his skin is lined with age.

“You thought that, since we both share the same patron, you might feel some esoteric sense of connection you could use to fool yourself into thinking you wanted me.”

“I— In slightly less words, yes, I suppose.”

Elias shakes his head, something fond nestled beneath the growing curve of his smile.

“Our patron is not the type to, ah, _supplement_ physical encounters.”

“Are you sure about that, Elias?” Jon mutters, but without much heat. “You clearly feel _something_ unprofessional when I— when you’re compelled.”

Elias chuckles without a single shred of shame. He scrapes his nails against Jon’s scalp, a whisper of rebuke to the gentle pressure of it.

“Well, my _personal_ proclivities happen to align with our patron’s skill set. Besides, it _is_ a pleasant sensation, at least in my experience. There’s no precise analogue that I could use to describe it to you.”

“Proclivities,” Jon repeats, injecting as much scorn into the word as he can.

This time, Elias laughs, amusement clear as a bright summer’s day.

“Yes, Jon. Proclivities that I am very aware that you don’t have, and I don’t plan to force onto you. Not unless you ask, at any rate.”

Jon’s first thought is to consider how unlikely that is. Then he considers the ever-growing thrill of power when he uses the compulsion, and how breathtakingly fallible Elias had seemed when Jon pulled an unwilling answer out of him. Perhaps it isn’t so unlikely after all.

Jon doesn’t say any of this out loud, of course. Elias can _know_ what Jon wonders, but he won’t get the satisfaction of being asked for it.

“There are many things I will push your boundaries on, Jon, because I care about seeing you progress. But the nature of our relationship is entirely up to you.”

“You’re a manipulative bastard,” Jon says, his irritation mixed with an unwilling sense of affection. He buries his face into Elias’ chest, blocking out the world.

“I never claimed otherwise.” If Jon didn’t know better, he’d think there was a hint of regret buried in Elias’ unapologetic tone.

Jon hates how comfortable he feels sitting in Elias’ lap, as though he was made to inhabit the negative space of Elias’ body. He can’t bring himself to break the illusion of tranquility, so Jon focuses on his own breathing, trying to match it to the practiced rhythm of Elias’ steady breaths. He doesn’t even notice his eyes fluttering shut.

When he thinks back, Jon won’t know how long he slept for, nestled against Elias. For once, his slumber is entirely untroubled by nightmares. He shuts his eyes, and when he opens them again, the office is dark, lit only by the streetlights outside. Elias is staring down at him with open fondness written across the harsh lines of his face. Jon isn’t awake enough to deal with that kind of affection — from Elias or from anyone else.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says for a third time.

Elias’ eyes brighten with a candle-flicker of amusement.

“No need. Budgeting and scheduling can wait for one night, given the circumstances.”

“I didn’t—” Jon shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his brain. Elias almost certainly knows that Jon didn’t dream. He might even be the reason for it — one acolyte of the Beholding helping another, or something along those lines.

With some reluctance, Jon drags himself away from Elias. He wavers on his feet for a moment, but pushes away the steadying hand that Elias offers him.

“This won’t happen again,” Jon says, with the sick taste of a lie on his tongue.

Elias inclines his head.

“Of course not.”

With every step Jon takes towards the door, normality begins to reassert itself. He knows he’ll be back here tomorrow evening — Elias will insist that he needs yet more training in his abilities — but the least he can do is collect his shoes and leave now. Maybe Jon can even convince himself that he imagined the whole thing.

Jon glances back at Elias. He looks as composed as ever, not even a hair out of place. He watches Jon, expression entirely unreadable.

“You could at least have the good grace to look dishevelled,” Jon mutters.

He opens the door and leaves to the sound of Elias’ indulgent laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at [screechfoxes](screechfoxes.tumblr.com)
> 
> comments make me very happy!


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